Twisted City: (Twisted City Book 1)

by Rebekah Vasick

  “I can’t remember the last time I could buy beautiful clothes,” she says, slipping the shoes on her feet.

  After I try on the other dresses, I select five of my favorites and wonder how Elodie knew my inability to walk in high heels. Even the pair of black suede knee-high boots has flat soles.

  “I'll box these for you.” Elodie totters off with the rest of my clothes and shoes, then looks over her shoulder. “Let me guess. Angelo wants you to fashion them for him, right?”

  In all the excitement, I had forgotten our agreement.

  “Is he always this demanding?” I wonder aloud.

  “Only to the truly beautiful girls.”

  Before I can enjoy the compliment, she continues. “He likes everything beautiful. Beautiful women. Beautiful cars. But he gets bored too quickly. Though I suppose I can’t complain. He bought this store for me.”

  I’m smart enough to know Angelo has no intentions of dating me. Besides, he’s bad news for me, and as Alice said, I’ll end up getting hurt by him. Nevertheless, ice encases my body, transforming me into a living statue. I hide my face from Alice and Elodie as my heart shatters into a million pieces.

  Within the pocket of my jean-jacket, the distorted shrill of my phone sings. I ignore it, knowing full well that the caller is Angelo.

  Three missed calls later, Alice finally speaks up. “Why are you ignoring him?”

  I’m surprised she cares.

  Instead of answering her, I continue to introduce my dresses to their new home. Now only six of the hangers are naked. Once I’m satisfied with my clothes placement, I arrange my new shoes at the bottom of my wardrobe.

  Alice repeats her question.

  I rise to my feet and flatten out the invisible wrinkles in my dress. “We were having fun shopping and I didn’t want Angelo to ruin it. Besides, he’ll see me soon enough.”

  Appeased by my answer, she abstains from asking further questions.

  I hate lying to Alice, but I’m too humiliated to admit the truth. Last night, I allowed my affections for Angelo to flourish. Today, Elodie’s remark about Angelo’s love of everything beautiful made me realize how ludicrous I am to believe I’m something special in his eyes.

  I glance over my shoulder to discover Alice lying on my bed, playing with her phone. “Your dress will wrinkle if you stay there,” I tell her.

  She ignores my comment and continues to tap on her phone. “Can I come with you today?”

  “Aren’t you working tonight?” I ask.

  “I’ll take a cab from the club if you’re not finished.”

  “We’re only discussing my songs.”

  For a moment, she glances my way. “And showing off your new dresses.”

  “Damn, I forgot that part.” I twist my body to behold my array of clothes. I tuck my hair behind my ears. “But they’re all put away now.”

  “So? Can I?”

  My fingertips caress the fabric of each dress. “Can you what?”

  “Come with you today?”

  After abandoning the clothes, I find her sitting, resting back on her palms.

  My hand gravitates to my hip. “Shouldn’t you ask Angelo?” I say. “I’d love for you to come with me, but it’s not my place to say. It’s not like the club will be open to the public.”

  A curl graces her lips. “Well, when you call him, you can ask him,” she says, heaving herself off the bed and skipping out of my room.

  With heavy feet, I amble over to the place she vacated and position myself on the edge of the bed. I stretch over to retrieve my phone from my jean-jacket pocket.

  One voicemail is waiting for me.

  Earlier today, finding anything from Angelo would induce an elevated high. But now, knowing the truth of his intentions creates a void within my chest, a longing I’m unable to sedate.

  A lump forms in my throat while my vision obscures. I tap the screen to play the message.

  “Hey, Eva. I imagine you’re having fun with Alice and Elodie. She called to let me know you bought some gorgeous dresses. I can’t wait for you to model them for me. Maybe you can give me a private viewing at my place tonight,” he says seductively. “Call me back.”

  Is he joking? What a pervert, wanting a private viewing!

  Revulsion fills the void, purging all the desire I had for him.

  Alice was right. He is a player, and I can no longer allow him to play me. In fact, I’ll call him back and tell him I know his game.

  After I find his number in my phone book, I resume procrastinating. The anger within me dies down, allowing the longing to return.

  I drop my phone in my lap and swipe the hot tears from my eyes. My hands quiver and I allow them to comfort one another.

  What the hell is wrong with me? Am I so desperate for love that I’m willing to sacrifice my self-worth to the first man who shows me the slightest amount of affection?

  Well, screw you, Angelo. I won’t let you hurt me like they did.

  Before I can delve too far into my thoughts, my phone springs to life, vibrating and singing in my lap. Of course, it’s Angelo.

  Did he sense my presence? Maybe he senses my anger towards him and wants to be the first to attack. Or maybe I’m just overreacting.

  Regardless, the hummingbird awakens, beating her wings and inviting her butterfly friends to invade my stomach. I repress the shudder in my voice before answering. “Hello?”

  “Eva, are you still shopping?” he asks.

  “No, I’m home now.”

  “Great. I need my best girl to sing. Come in as quick as you can,” he orders.

  “Now?” I clarify.

  “I’d come and get you myself, but I have company. I’ll see you soon.”

  “Wait.”

  “What?”

  “Alice asked if she could come with me today.”

  “Sure, no problem. Just get your ass in here,” he almost snaps.

  The phone falls silent.

  “Best girl until he’s bored with me,” I grumble, tossing the phone beside me.

  Even with my disgruntled disposition, the hummingbird compels me to slide from the bed and inspect my appearance in the mirror, only to find Alice’s reflection waiting for me.

  “So?” she asks.

  “You can come,” I tell her. “Call us a taxi. He wants me in now.”

  She giggles as she skips out of my room.

  As I preen in front of the mirror, I examine my naked face. Maybe I should apply makeup and style my hair.

  “Alice,” I call out.

  She returns with her phone pressed against her ear.

  “Can you do my—”

  She nods and leaves before I finish my sentence, but soon returns with a makeup bag.

  “Fifteen minutes before the cab gets here,” she says, perching herself on the edge of the bed.

  With faltering steps, I join her.

  “We don’t have a lot of time, but a little makeup will make your eyes pop,” she says, digging through the bag.

  I giggle. “Sounds dangerous.”

  “Shut up and close your eyes,” she jests.

  Within ten minutes, she hands me a mirror. “There. He’ll adore you.”

  I look to find that she’s applied a light layer of autumn-colored eye makeup and drawn my hair away from my face, securing it with a little clip. The loose hair cascades down my back and around my shoulders in gentle waves.

  “Thanks,” I mumble, handing her back the mirror.

  “What happened between you two? Why do you suddenly hate him?”

  “Why do you suddenly like him?” I wonder. “Was it not you who warned me to keep my distance?”

  She hesitates to answer as she gathers her makeup and stashes it back in the bag.

  “Yeah, but you liked him the first night. What did he do?” she finally says.

  She watches me.

  I hang my head, allowing my locks to conceal my morose expression. “Nothing, just leave it,” I mumble.

  A ten
der hand reaches to collect mine. “Eva, you can talk to me. Even about him.”

  The intercom buzzer interrupts us.

  “Taxi’s here. We need to go,” I say in a solemn voice and rise from the bed, letting her hand slip from mine.

  After retrieving my bag, I gather my phone and tuck it away.

  To her chagrin, she drops the subject and follows me to the waiting taxi.

  

  For the duration of the ride, I remain morose while Alice’s exhilaration elevates. Her smile widens and her body quivers the closer we get to Club Stang.

  “Are you excited to see Angelo?” I ask.

  She laughs. “No.”

  “So, what’s with all the excitement?”

  “My dress.”

  I arch one eyebrow and open my mouth to respond and promptly close it again.

  “Angelo has no idea he bought my dress,” she whispers, leaning closer.

  One side of my mouth hitches up. “You’re so weird.”

  As the taxi idles outside the club, Alice clasps my wrist and pulls me out the door with her.

  “What’s the rush?” I ask.

  “We can’t keep your boss waiting, can we?”

  “Since when do you care what Angelo wants?”

  She pauses by the front doors and turns towards me with her face lit up like the morning sun.

  “The dress, Eva. The dress!” she giggles.

  I roll my eyes. “Fine. Let’s get inside.”

  Before opening the door, she flicks her hair out behind her, imbuing my nostrils with her sweet apple blossom perfume. Her sassy side is already on display, for Angelo’s benefit I’m sure. She even accentuates the swing in her hips as she sashays through the door.

  With only one foot over the threshold, I already sense something different about the club. The obvious changes shine through. The familiar scent of cologne mixes with heavy clouds of tobacco. A large table, made from the single tables, has eight men sitting around it, all decked in suits, playing poker and smoking cigars. Yet there’s something else. A subtle change in the atmosphere, something sinister, causes my steps to falter and my limbs to quiver.

  Maybe it’s nothing, considering Alice’s excitement continues to radiate from her.

  My hands console one another in front of me as I glance over towards the eight men. Angelo and Frankie, I recognize, but the other six, I’ve never met before. The men appear content to converse with each other and I wonder what the great urgency was.

  Clyde, the handsome bartender, pours drinks behind the bar.

  “Hey, ladies,” he greets us. “Take a seat. I’ll get you both a drink in a bit, okay?”

  Even though he spoke loud enough for the group of men to hear, not one of them turns to greet us.

  We take a seat at the bar and wait for Clyde.

  With graceful skill, Clyde balances a tray of drinks on one hand positioned above his shoulder and takes it over to the table. I watch Clyde with fascination as he interacts with the men. As he sets down the drinks, each man crams a fifty or a hundred-dollar bill into his vest pocket, telling him to keep the drinks coming. Some even tap his cheek. Though I can’t say I would appreciate these displays of appreciation myself, Clyde seems content enough to serve them.

  I tire of watching Clyde’s interaction’s and allow my eyes to wander. Of course, they gravitate toward Angelo. The dismay I encountered from Elodie’s comment dissolves as I gaze into his heavenly face.

  Even though his eyes remain focused on the cards in his hand (and I’ll admit, it’s a little odd to see him with a cigar clamped between his teeth) he continues to take my breath away. The hummingbird makes her presence known and I fear Alice will sense something different about me. Or maybe the dopey grin on my face.

  After adjusting my posture and expression, I allow my gaze to travel to the man sitting beside Angelo.

  My eyebrows raise briefly as I scrutinize the new man. He could be Angelo’s twin. Of course, I find subtle differences between them. The new man has a distinct bump on his nose from a previous break. His lips appear a little thicker, his chin is a little wider, and his rounded eyes resemble melted chocolate. However, they’re both dressed in black suits with scarlet ties, and even the style of their raven hair is almost identical, though Angelo parts his on the right with the tips of his hair kissing his left eyebrow, while his twin parts his on the left, drawing it completely away from his face.

  I nudge Alice. “Do you see that guy sitting next to Angelo?” I whisper.

  She nods.

  “Do you know him?”

  “Yeah. That’s Don Bellini’s son, Mario,” she whispers back.

  “He and Angelo could be twins.”

  She takes a moment to examine the pair. “I never noticed that before, but you’re right.”

  Frankie fidgets beside his brother, adorned in a slate-gray suit with an aqua tie. It’s obvious he’s uncomfortable in his attire as he tugs at the knot of his tie. Why would he wear a suit if it’s so uncomfortable for him?

  A large man in a gray suit with thinning salt and pepper hair sits beside Mario. On his rounded face, he has thick, bushy eyebrows hanging over a pair of onyx eyes. He has a bulbous nose and thick lips that curve into a frightful grin over his double chin. He holds a cigar between his chubby fingers and brings it to his lips to inhale the smoke, and blows out a thick, gray plume. A glint from his finger catches my attention to discover a gold wedding band. His laugh is deep and menacing, causing an icy chill to slither down my spine. Surrounding the frightful man is an air of arrogance.

  “Who’s that?” I whisper.

  “Don Bellini. Probably the reason you’re here,” Alice tells me.

  I raise one eyebrow, thoroughly confused.

  “Seriously? When we get home, we’re watching The Godfather,” she chuckles. “Anyway, he’s the big boss. Whatever he says goes.”

  Clyde returns. Alice and I turn in our seats and fold our arms on the bar.

  “What can I get you two lovely ladies?” he asks.

  “Coke please,” we respond simultaneously.

  “That’s a gorgeous dress, Eva. Is it new?”

  “Yes. I bought it today.” My hand flutters up to the neckline of my dress to caress the fabric.

  “You look beautiful,” he tells me.

  A hot blush stains my cheeks.

  I lower my head and tuck my hair behind my ear. “Thank you,” I mumble uncomfortably.

  “What about my dress?” Alice asks. “It’s new too.”

  She said it loud enough for Angelo to hear, but as I glance over my shoulder towards him, I notice he’s too engrossed in his poker game to pay any attention to her.

  “You look beautiful too,” Clyde says in a tight voice.

  Clyde’s restraint towards Alice is strange. It isn’t like him at all, considering he hits on every girl he meets. What makes Alice so different?

  “Thank you.” Alice flutters her lashes.

  Men fall over their tongues when they interact with her. It’s probably driving her insane that Clyde shows no interest.

  Clyde runs a hand down his face as a fresh bead of sweat forms on his brow. His eyes avert from Alice over to the poker table.

  Curiosity encourages me to follow his gaze, trying to determine the source of his anxiety. The men continue their pleasantries, leaving us to ours, bringing me no closer to the truth.

  As I turn to share my discoveries with Alice, her attitude mirrors Clyde’s as she dives into her drink.

  I hunker down to her level. “What’s wrong?” I whisper.

  “We’re in a bar with the mafia. You should be nervous too,” she whispers back.

  “Earlier, you couldn’t contain your excitement. What changed?” I wonder.

  The light banter from the group explodes into anger. Several pairs of hands slam down on the table as fierce shouts in Italian saturate my ears.

  As I glance towards the men, my blood turns to ice, freezing every inch of my body exc
ept my erratic heart that thumps against my chest. All eight men rise from the table with their chairs skidding backwards.

  I hide behind Alice as she tries to hide behind me.

  “Girls, get back here with me,” Clyde warns.

  Alice grabs my hand, tugging me along with her as she dashes behind the bar. We duck down out of sight, huddled together, while Clyde remains standing as our protector.

  My body trembles, as does Alice’s. I’m sure I would hear my rapid heartbeat if it wasn’t for the angry shouting that only intensifies. They speak in both Italian and English, though none of it makes any sense. Alice’s shuddering breath sounds in my ear as her hand tightens in mine.

  “What do we do?” I whisper.

  Her sea-green eyes glisten from a fresh film of tears. “I don’t know.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa, there’s no need for that!” I hear Angelo exclaim.

  Over the years, I’ve witnessed violence and enraged slurs that have toughened every fiber of my being. This, however, has shaken me to the core. Nevertheless, my jittery hands reach the edge of the bar, hoisting the rest of my quivering body up to glimpse at the terrifying scene.

  Four of the men have guns trained on Frankie and Angelo. I’ve never seen a gun before and was content to live the rest of my life never seeing one. Yet here I am, hiding behind a bar, possibly about to witness a shooting. It all seems so surreal.

  Don Bellini has his arms folded over his chest. He reminds me of a judge as his head swivels to listen to the prosecution’s and defense’s testimonies and arguments.

  Mario remains tranquil with his hands on his hips. In fact, Frankie and Angelo themselves seem nonchalant about the unfolding scene.

  My gaze travels the length of Clyde’s body to determine his verdict on the frightful scene. Though he stands with his hands on his hips, his body quivers just as hard as mine.

  As my eyes return to the frightful scene, Don Bellini peers in my direction, instilling a fresh wave of fear. I duck down once again and huddle close to Alice. She doesn’t question what I witnessed, nor do I feel the need to reiterate.

  “Frankie will pay you the money, I assure you,” Angelo says. “But he can’t do that if he’s dead.”